Sherlock After the Dentist
by Noelle M
Summary: Whenever Sherlock Holmes had to go to the doctor to receive any anesthetics, Mycroft was always there to embarrass him. Based on the David after the Dentist video on youtube. Please take nothing seriously, this is pure crack, with some Americanisms.


**Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING! That is to say, I own the rights to write this, but Sir Arthur Conan Doyle owns the Sherlock books and Sirs Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat, along with BBC, own the series and plot. **

Hey there, readers!

I got this idea while watching the video, 'David after the Dentist' thinking that making a Sherlock twist on it would be funny. Though, I would want to add something more to the in-between parts, and make it not just a carbon copy of the video on Youtube.

I'm guessing Sherlock is seven here, and Mycroft is 14. The person I added in the story, or the person whose name doesn't appear in the series, is supposed to be Mycroft's childhood friend who is his age. I'm also pretending he works with Mycroft when he is older. This is just kind of getting my feet wet to try and practice my writing skills. Well, here it is, Sherlock after the dentist!

The sky was completely engulfed by sunlight as Mycroft ran back to the parking lot, not missing a single moment. It was perfect timing, coming in from the local ASDA, while his mummy was still in the dentist's office. It was also perfect timing to show off to Daniel, who was here for the next two days.

He tripped on a few stones and one pothole, getting himself a rather nasty skin on the knee. He yelped and whimpered as he pulled himself up to his feet. Mycroft nudged his hand around in his pockets, making sure the parcel was still there. He and his friend had done this twice before, but this promising chance only came about once or twice, so he had to hustle.

"Daniel," he cried out, just a few steps from the car, "is this really necessary? Couldn't you just bring your own camera from home?"

The boy stuck his blonde head out of a passenger window seat. Daniel hissed, "Shh! be quiet, he's still sleeping!" He stuck his head out further. "If we want to get the best coverage for this, now's our chance!"

Mycroft groaned and limped to the passenger side of the car. He dug out the paper-covered parcel and handed it to Daniel. "He just got back from the dentist. They had to get rid of an extra tooth and put him on medications for it."

They both heard a snort from where Sherlock slept and Mycroft frantically jumped to the front passenger seat. He held his chest and breathed heavily as he opened the door to the car. As he was climbing in, he tripped over himself and fell in.

Daniel giggled to himself at the sight. "What?" The boy in the front hoarsely whispered. Daniel just pointed mockingly at him. "Well, all this excitement is making me nervous!"

"I can tell!" Daniel could barely unravel the paper in his laughing fit. "I can see you can't do things that require movement all by yourself." Mycroft rolled his eyes felt his face slowly grow red. "Here, open the camera, if you're not too busy." Daniel gave Mycroft the camera as he wiped his eyes.

Mycroft puffed up his open jacket with pride as he gingerly took in the camera. He could hear Sherlock's soft, tired little breathing as he unwrapped the paper encasing the camera. After opening, he could hardly take his eyes off of the instrument. Though it was cheap, it thoroughly astonished him. He scanned every little piece of machinery, every small button, amazing him that such a small device needed so much work done to it until it worked perfectly.

He heard a small moan in the background and looked up. "Mycroft," Daniel's voice hissed from behind, "turn it on, he's waking up."

Immediately, Mycroft found the red 'on' button and aimed the lens at Sherlock. "Daniel, you're completely in the picture!" Daniel put up his hands in defense and moved to the right. The video recorder turned on with a small bleep as Sherlock's eyes fluttered open.

The seven-year-old's mouth sleepily gaped when he saw his brother. He was still out of it. "I'm hungry." Sherlock moaned, surprisingly loud.

"Yeah, I know," Mycroft shifted the camera as he lunged a bit forward. "So, how did it go?"

Sherlock mumbled and turned his head druggedly toward the window. "Ah…I didn't feel anything…"

"Yeah." _Come on._ Mycroft thought_. Don't fall asleep on me now!_

Sherlock moaned again and shifted his head to the side. His curly hair skid against the back of the leather chair. "Uhhh, I feel funny." He dropped his head and circled it around in a circle.

"Kinda felt good, didn't it?" His friend smiled.

The poor kid just kept moaning and rolled his head in his drugged stupor. Then he stopped and stared with glazed-over eyes at Mycroft. The elder boy shuddered at the way Sherlock's eyes seemed to never blink while looking at you. Like those creepy Doctor Who action figures he'd play with.

"I-is this real life?" Sherlock's mouth was still slightly open to show his teeth.

What kind of question was that? Mycroft held back a snicker. "Yeah, this is real life." He smiled, looking over at Daniel, who also found it difficult to not smile. The blonde slapped a free hand over his mouth to prevent the child from seeing it and ruining the moment.

Sherlock still gaped at his older sibling, almost amazed. "OK, now…now I-" he sat up, holding out both index fingers. "I have two fingers."

"Good!" Mycroft replied making sure the camera was focusing on Sherlock well.

"Now four fingers."

Mycroft raised a brow. "Four fingers?"

Sherlock nodded and stuck out his tongue just a bit. _Yep, he's gone_. Mycroft remarked to himself.

The younger boy moved his index finger up to his open mouth, possibly because feeling was coming back in his mouth.

Mycroft quickly bounced, "Uh uh uh, no! Don't put that in."

Sherlock slowly moved his finger towards his ear, and then it began its slow descent downward. "Don't put that in your mouth. Okay?"

Mycroft smiled to himself, still keeping an eye on Sherlock. The younger sibling closed his mouth and opened it again. He bowed his head with his eyes still glazed over.

" You feel good?" Mycroft asked. He quickly looked over at Daniel, who hid his head in his shirt.

Sherlock just let his eyelids open halfway and rolled his head again. "I-I can't see anything." His eyes were completely blank. He looked about him with half-lidded eyes.

"Yes you can."

Mycroft waited for a response, but Sherlock just expressionlessly gazed out of the window. Knowing his strange habits, Mycroft thought he would daydream out into the window, and the whole moment would be lost. But, it seemed as though he would completely abandon those habits when he put his hands on the sides of his seat and pulled himself up.

Even though he had a seatbelt on, Mycroft began to worry he would want to venture off. He pointed a finger at the child, saying, "Now, stay in your seat."

Naturally, he disobeyed. Sherlock lifted himself out of the seat and let out a painfully loud roar that pierced both Daniel's and Mycroft's ears. "!" Mycroft aimed the camera at Sherlock in the air while yelling. The young boy's face looked almost as if it was a mix of anger, frustration, and confusion. His grey eyes were as wild as an ostrich, and he looked almost as angry as one. If ostriches were ever angry. Basically, he was a drugged up mess.

A few pedestrians looked at the car, as whatever was coming out of the car was disturbing the peace. Mycroft would see a tall man coming out of the dentist's office glaring right at the car. One woman with a pram gave Sherlock a nasty grimace. _Lovely. So nice to have everyone's attention_.

Sherlock presently calmed, and returned to his dormant state in his chair again. Daniel laughed harder. His head drooped back down, and he appeared to be falling asleep again. _Oh, good. He can go to sleep, and that will be it._

"I don't feel tired." Mycroft rolled his eyes. _Of course._

"No?"

"Uh-uh." The little boy shook his head. Daniel seemed to calm down a little more.

"No?"

Sherlock just stared. "Do I have stitches?" Daniel started again.

"Mhmm." Was Mycroft's reply.

"D-" Sherlock kept staring. "Do I have stitches?"

Mycroft smiled. "Yes."

"On my teeth?" He pointed his finger towards his open mouth.

"Yeah, don't touch it." Sherlock didn't move. It wasn't because he was being obstinate, but because he couldn't really understand anything going on. _Poor kid_. "Don't touch it."

"Why can't I touch it?"

"Because it will mess up the stitches."

Sherlock widened his eyes. "You have four eyes."

"Yeah!" _Just play along, now_. Sherlock stared at Mycroft, amazed.

"I-" Sherlock began, holding up his hands. "I feel funny. Why-why is this happening to me?"

That did it for Daniel. He slowly inhaled and exhaled, trying to control himself so he wouldn't ruin the moment.

_Oh, god this is brilliant_. Mycroft coughed as he tried to cover a laugh. "Ok, Sherlock, it's just from the medicine, okay?"

Sherlock sat confused. He held up his hands to his head, as though formulating a concept. "Is this gonna be _forever_?"

Daniel huddled in a ball, chuckling to himself. Even Mycroft found it excruciating to not laugh. "No, no it won't be forever."

Sherlock sat with his lips curled in a sort of frown. He groaned and dropped his head down to the edge of his chair.

Mycroft chuckled and turned the camera downward to find the off button. He switched it off and took a deep breath. Sherlock pulled his head back up and looked sleepily out of the window.

Daniel pulled himself out of his huddle and looked right at Mycroft. He was grinning from ear to ear. "God, that was bloody brilliant."

The friends laughed uproariously, Mycroft not having to say a word. Sherlock just looked at them in bewilderment, then slipped off into sleep once more.

Daniel wiped his eyes. "I swear, that was much better than the time he had to be taken to the doctor's, or even the time when we were at that restaurant-"

They laughed even harder and continued on when Mrs. Holmes came back into the car and drove back to the Holmes' residence. They knew that this prank would never have an end.

**28 years later…**

It was pouring rain one silent, March day at Sherlock Holmes' residence on Baker Street. John Watson had just gone to retrieve Mrs. Hudson's pain medication for her hip at the hospital, since he thought getting them just at any local grocer would do her no good.

Sherlock had nothing to do. His reasons being that his violin bow was lost in his rubbish somewhere; Mrs. Hudson found that Sherlock had saved his skull and battered it later with a rolling pin, Sherlock might have 'accidentally-on-purpose' fed the neighbors' bird some of his newest concoction of whatever-it-was, and John took all of his 'experimental' body parts to the morgue. If he didn't do something, he swore he'd-no, he wouldn't dare try to do anything harmful to the flat again.

Finally, Sherlock had succumbed to his computer, not John's, his own. He looked through all of his personal files and found himself searching on the Internet. He was briefly browsing through the news, horrible, mind-melding rubbish it was, and then went through some of his emails.

Finally, after reading and deleting (more like deleting than reading), Sherlock stumbled upon an email from a coworker of Mycroft's who sent him a message with a link. He furrowed his brows together and clicked on the email. It read:

_Sherlock,_

_I know you will find this interesting. ;)_

_-Daniel Jenner_

_P.S, I'm sure you'll mention none of this to Mycroft._

Sherlock promptly went to the link given him, ignoring the rest of the script on the bottom. The link went straight to a video that he had never seen before. Or, more likely, would have been kept from him. For the first time that day, Sherlock smiled so that there was no more room on his face for anything else.

A few minutes later, John came back into the flat, carrying the medicine the housekee—landlady needed. He saw his flatmate staring absorbed to something on his screen.

"Sherlock," He began, walking slowly towards the computer. "What is that?"

The taller man turned his computer screen around and grinned brightly. John squinted at the computer until he could finally see a familiar image.

"Is that Mycroft?" He needed no answer, for there he was at the age of three, running around with milk squirting out of his nose. Mr. Holmes, or so it would seem, was chasing the baby around, laughing at the toddler.

"Why is he-" John looked directly at Sherlock. "What is this, what is going on?"

The taller man just grinned mischievously. "Leverage."

Yes, I know. It's a crack-fic. I just hope this is as funny as I thought it was.

Review and tell me what you think! God bless!


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